


Paint

by Raicheru



Category: Bleach
Genre: Creative Use of Paint, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicheru/pseuds/Raicheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an art student at the local university, Ichigo is thrilled to learn that his favorite artist Sosuke Aizen is coming to teach a workshop in his class.  When he’s invited out that night by the artist himself, there’s no way he’ll refuse the invitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FF dot net as part of my Tangerine collection.

Ichigo shifted his portfolio bag on his shoulder as he headed across the campus. The morning air was chill and he could see his breath pluming in wispy little white clouds. He didn’t usually take classes this early, but there’d been a rumor that his favorite artist might do a workshop this semester and there was no way he’d miss that chance. And it just happened that today was the day he’d scheduled to come in. Sosuke Aizen was, in Ichigo’s opinion, one of the best artists he’d ever seen. His work was all abstract, but the movement and emotion he put into a painting with just strokes of color was breathtaking. Whenever there was a show opening with his work on display, Ichigo was always one of the first to get tickets. His friends thought he was a little obsessed, but so what?

He entered the art studio building and was hit by a wave of hot air. Frowning, he opened his jacket. He always hated the sudden difference in temperature from outside to in. That’s why he usually wore layers. He could always add a sweatshirt or strip down a little if it got too warm. A quiet laugh escaped him and he snickered at his own adolescent humor. Strip down. Chuckle. Nearly all the easels were taken when he entered the room. So much for getting there early. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was interested in the workshop. Another rumor circulating was that Aizen picked all his models from the classes he taught. There were never figures in his paintings, but it was said that he always used a muse for his work. 

There was a constant, excited babble in the room as everyone speculated who would be picked this year. Ichigo had no illusions about being chosen for such an honor. He didn’t have that kind of luck. And he wouldn’t whore himself out for the opportunity. He eyed the girls who had obviously spent copious amounts of time in the mirror that morning with a look of disgust. As if such a cheap display would garner them any attention. He shook himself. That was a little mean, even for him. Focus on the art and ignore the rest. 

Settling at one of the last open spots, he pulled out his paper and charcoals. In other places he’d been, the dry mediums were relegated to a separate building to keep the dust away from the galleries and other studios. It made drawing classes always seem like an afterthought. But the university had gotten a handsome grant for the department and built a special studio with great ventilation. None of the other spaces would be bothered and they could keep all of the class rooms together. Four large padded benches took up the space in the center of the room. Oh good. Maybe they’d be working with models today.

The din quieted down suddenly as a single figure entered the room. The girls all tittered and some of the guys did too. Aizen was a handsome man. Even Ichigo felt his stomach jump as the warm brown gaze swept over him. He wore a long white robe with a black inner layer that was held with a purple sash. Some might consider it an affectation, but Ichigo didn’t care. It fit him, just like the thick black glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Hardly what some would consider fashionable, but they were perfect, just like the rest of him. Ichigo found himself blushing a little at that last thought. But again, he wasn’t the only one. Several faces had reddened across the room, most probably having some of the same thoughts. Everyone’s attention sharpened like a laser as he spoke.

“Today, we will be working with the human body. Some might consider it an overworked subject, but there is so much variety in the human form. One could never hope to capture all its intricacies even in the span of an entire lifetime.” 

Ichigo couldn’t agree more. Working with nude models was always a favorite of his. And not for the reason most everyone teased him about. He loved the tone of muscle and shape of bone that made up the human body. Not in any sort of clinical way. His dad had been a little disappointed when he’d decided he didn’t want to be a doctor like him. But he loved the way the body moved. 

He’d often done work with movement at the local dojos. At least the ones that let him in. Some thought his request a little odd and refused immediately. But there were a couple that he spent a lot of time at and the students were actually pleased to be the subjects of his drawings. He’d developed quite a following with some of the girls. And while he wasn’t really interested in any of the invitations he received, it was nice to be appreciated. One of his prize winning pieces was a portrait of his friend Tatsuki. He’d caught her image as she kicked in mid-air. It sat framed at her house, a gift on her last birthday after she’d won the national tournament. 

Aizen ushered in four people who wore robes into the center of the room. There were two women and two men. He gestured for them to find comfortable positions on the waiting benches. When their robes dropped, there was a slight change in atmosphere. Some of the other students seemed a little disappointed. These were not toned and classically attractive people. Most would consider them average at best. They were slightly pudgy in comfortable ways, with a little extra weight here and there. Ichigo thought they were beautiful. The perfect subjects to study. Aizen went around the room adjusting the lights here and there as they got settled. The way the beams hit their bodies was incredible. The light and shadow playing on their curves made for the most excellent contrasts and Ichigo started immediately. 

Everyone else followed suit, but he hardly noticed. It was all about the charcoal on his pad and the figures in the center of the room. Throughout the session, he changed locations to find different angles and use all of the different models in at least one of his pieces. Ichigo couldn’t seem to get his thoughts and impressions on paper fast enough. His hands were starting to cramp up and he sat back to take a break. Students were encouraged to tour others’ work during the class and several stopped to compliment his drawings. The praise was nice, but that’s not why he did it. He just liked taking an image he saw and transferring it to the paper while putting part of himself in the picture. 

Aizen was quiet the entire time, roaming the room seemingly at random. He never really said anything or lingered over anyone’s easel more than someone else’s. There were a couple whispers here and there about this all being a big rip off. Ichigo found himself getting a little irritated. But Aizen either didn’t notice or he didn’t let it bother him. Ichigo thought it was great. Even thought he wasn’t really teaching in a traditional sense, his choice of models was an education in itself. Every class Ichigo had taken up until this point had used picture perfect people. While it made for nice images, it was also really redundant and boring. This was the best class he’d had all year and he did everything he could to fix it in his memory.

Eventually, it came to an end and the models put on their robes. Everyone gave them a round of applause and they left with pleased expressions on their faces. Aizen clasped each of their hands in turn and thanked them personally. He turned to the rest of the room. “I’d like to thank you all for being here today.” And that was it. No lecture on form or light and shadow, no comments that he hoped they’d learned something. Some of the other students seemed a little dissatisfied. What did they want, a pat on the back? This was an independent, artistic opportunity, not a class for beginners who needed someone to point everything out and hold their hands. Ichigo finished cleaning up his materials and carefully placed his drawings in the pocket of his portfolio. A shadow fell over his easel and he looked up to see Aizen standing over him with a quiet smile on his face. 

“Uh, hi,” Ichigo practically stammered. And a little voice in his head was berating him for being a moron. A few people shot him envious glances as they left the room. Why were they jealous. . ? His eyes widened. He couldn’t possibly be about to ask him to model could he? Heat flooded his face before he could stop himself. Aizen’s smile widened a little and there was a certain look in his eyes that Ichigo couldn’t identify. But it made his pulse speed up a little.

“I’ve been watching you work today, and I must say, I’m impressed. Your professors have all praised your work, and your portfolio is impressive. But I’m glad I got a chance to see for myself.” 

Aizen had been looking at his portfolio? Before today? There was a nervous fluttering starting his stomach and he had trouble getting under control.

“T-thanks. Um. I’m glad you like my stuff.” If Aizen was put off by his stuttering, he didn’t show it. He seemed more amused than anything else. 

“It’s always a pleasure to find someone who sees beyond the obvious and finds the beauty in what’s there instead of what’s expected.” 

Ichigo warmed at the comment. “Classic beauty is overrated. It’s nice looking, but it’s so much more genuine when you find it in the everyday things that most people overlook.”

“Exactly.” Aizen smiled and tilted his head slightly. “Are you free this evening?” 

Was he kidding? Ichigo would most likely reschedule bypass surgery if he asked. “Sure. I’m not doing anything.”

“I’d like you to have dinner with me.” 

“That would be great.” He tried not to sound too eager, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was rare to find someone who shared his artistic views. 

“And please, bring some of your favorite pieces with you. I’d love to see more of what you’ve done. Preferably independent work that wasn’t done for an assignment. That’s usually the most engaging. I‘ll meet you back here this evening.”

“Sure.” 

Aizen gave a small bow and moved to get his things. Ichigo watched him go as his heart slowed to its normal rhythm. He was having dinner with Sosuke Aizen. Nearly leaping off his stool in joy, he grabbed the rest of his belongings and practically danced back to his apartment. What should he bring? Paintings, drawings, or some of his more experimental stuff. He’d tried just about every traditional medium and a few odd things on the side. Charcoals were his favorites for drawing and he loved using creamy watercolors for paint. Maybe he’d just pick a little of everything. There was no way he would be able to bring it all. He had boxes full of work because he hated to throw anything away. 

After spending all afternoon fretting over his choices and then obsessing about what he was going to wear, he lugged and overly full pouch back to the studio. His shoulders ached by the time he got there. Maybe he should have brought a hand truck. He nearly giggled from nervousness before he could stop himself. This was getting a little ridiculous. He really needed to relax and calm down. But before he had a chance to compose himself, he saw Aizen waiting outside the building next to a rather nice car. 

“I hope you don’t mind if we go back to my hotel room. I’m not a huge fan of restaurants.” 

“That’s fine.” His heart did a little flip.

Aizen helped him put his portfolio in the trunk and they left. They didn’t speak much during the drive, but it was a companionable silence and Ichigo found his nerves finally fading away. Now that he’d gotten over a little of his hero worship, he found that he just liked being around the other man. When they pulled up outside the hotel, Aizen carried the art pouch inside himself and held the door for Ichigo who blushed a little. The older man smiled and followed him in. 

The room was really nice. More like a suite. It was bigger than Ichigo’s apartment all together. The center of the main room had been cleared completely, leaving room for a huge canvas that had been laid out on the floor. A layer of protective plastic covered the rest of the space. Apparently, Aizen worked even while on the road. Ichigo didn’t really expect anything less. 

They sat at the dining room table and went through his pieces one by one, with Aizen handling each with the utmost care. Ichigo talked about what he’d been doing or thinking while he’d been working on each one. Every piece of paper was a memory, with his surroundings being as much a part of the piece as the subject itself.

In the past, he’d always found himself feeling a little embarrassed while explaining his art. It was a very personal experience for him. But there was none of that here. Aizen listened carefully to what he had to say, asking a few questions here and there. It was just nice to have someone to talk to that really seemed to understand the way he thought. When they came to one drawing in particular, Aizen stopped to stare.

“This is exquisite.” 

Ichigo’s expression softened as he looked at the one he’d picked. It was a portrait done in simple pencils of his sisters from when they were a little younger. They were asleep, snuggled together in the same bed. He’d snuck into their room one night to get that particular image. It was one of his favorites and he couldn’t help but smile every time he saw it. He looked over at the artist who was gazing at it with a wistful expression on his face as he set it back in the pile. Ichigo reached out and covered his hand with his own.

“Please. I’d like you to have it.” Aizen seemed a little surprised. But he smiled again when he saw he meant it.

“Thank you. I would be honored.” 

Ichigo fidgeted a little in his seat. “I’m sure people give you their stuff all the time.”

“Not when it obviously means so much to them. I will treasure this.” He looked down at the hand that covered his. He turned his hand and tightened his fingers when Ichigo tried to snatch it away in embarrassment. That look was in his eyes again. “Have you every modeled before?”

Ichigo was caught by surprise and tried not to get his hopes up. “Not really. But nobody’s ever asked before, I guess.” 

“It’s not often I find someone with your point of view. It’s even more rare when they’re as beautiful as you are.” There was no slow flush this time. Ichigo’s face was instantly hot with a blush that crept up past his hairline. Aizen reached out with his free hand and stroked his fingers down his cheek. 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, though I do find it rather endearing when you blush like that.” 

Ichigo closed his eyes and sighed. God, his touch felt so good. If only he were asking for something beyond a subject for his painting, he would agree in a heartbeat. But he’d take any chance he got to be close to him. Opening his eyes again, he met the other man’s gaze steadily.

“I would love to model for you.” 

Aizen smiled again, his expression warm and, if Ichigo wasn’t reading too much into it, a little lustful. Interesting. And then the other man leaned in an kissed him. It was soft and quiet with just a hint of promise. Ichigo responded and tried not to seem too eager. When he pulled away again, Aizen still had that wonderful smile on his face. He gestured toward a door to the left.

“You can change in there. There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door if you need it.” 

Ichigo felt tingly and excited, and just a little apprehensive. He wasn’t a virgin anymore, but this felt a little different than the few relationships he’d had in the past. He went into what turned out to be a bathroom and began to take his clothes off. Ichigo expected to feel at least a little vulnerable, but he felt really calm for the first time all day. He didn’t bother with the robe. When he came back out, Aizen looked up from his preparations. 

Ichigo paused in the doorway letting him get a good look. His tanned skin was stretched over firm muscles. He still kept up his training even though he didn’t really need to defend himself on a regular basis like he had in middle school. There were a few pale scars here and there from when someone had cheated and got in a lucky shot while he was down. Aizen’s gaze traveled unashamedly over his body and lingered slightly. Ichigo looked down. A particularly long scar traced across his ribs on his left side. He’d almost forgotten about that one. The other guy had used a knife and Ichigo had needed nearly thirty stitches. The slightly puckered, pink tissue stood out against the warm tone of his skin. When he looked up again, Aizen stood right in front of him and his breath caught as warm fingers traced over the old wound.

“Not only an artist but a warrior as well. You’re just full of surprises.” Taking Ichigo’s hand, he led him over to the canvas laid out on the floor. Aizen had been busy painting while he’d been in the bathroom. The entire surface had been layered with oranges and yellows and just a hint of red. It seemed like and extremely familiar set of colors. But then he saw it in the mirror every day. His hair had been a constant annoyance when he was younger, and then turned into a point of pride as he grew up. Aizen had captured the tones perfectly, almost like he’d been practicing to get just the right balance of shades. Ichigo blushed again as he realized he probably had. 

Not only had his favorite artist been speaking to his professors about him, he’d been studying him long before he even came to teach the workshop. He almost laughed as the intimacy of the gesture made him nervous again. Aizen surprised him with another kiss, this one deeper and he responded by opening his mouth a little and letting him in. Their tongues played with each other for a moment before they broke apart. Ichigo’s felt a little breathless. Aizen moved over to the couch that had been pushed up against the wall and started to shed his robes and glasses. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I tend to work better in the nude. Less distractions that way.” 

Ichigo couldn’t really find words. Aizen was an extremely handsome man. Right down to his toes. He too had seen some rough times in his life. There were a few pale marks of his own. Most of them had faded over the years, leaving just the memory of the events that created them. Aizen picked up his pallet and a brush and came over to stand in front of him. There were blues and purples that he mixed together for a moment as if looking for the right balance. Ichigo glanced at the canvas on the floor and wondered how this was going to work. Aizen could probably allow it to dry and add it to his collection as it was.

He was startled by the cool touch of the brush on his skin. Looking down, a long trail of blue slid down from his left shoulder, brushing over his nipple and making him shiver a little. The stroke ended just below his navel and Aizen watching his reaction as he finished. The smooth feel of the paint sliding off the soft bristles had been amazingly erotic and Ichigo found his body reacting. But the artist didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looked pleased. Ichigo stood still as Aizen continued to paint his body with thick trails of color. He tried not to fidget too much, but the arousing touches kept making him tremble. His breath had been reduced to short pants and his eyes glazed a little from the pleasure of it. 

One last draw of the brush along his tail bone left a dribbling trail of paint that worked its way down along the cleft of his ass, the pigment warming with the contact against his heated skin. He was now covered in paint from head to toe. Aizen set the brush aside and took his lips again, drawing the kiss out with slow nips. Ichigo couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. Large hands started to smear the color on his skin, the massaging caresses making him fully aroused and ready. 

He was a little surprised when he was drawn gently down onto the canvas. The cool paint was still wet and slick and they slid a little on the surface before settling. It was softer than he imagined it would be. There was some sort of padding beneath and he sank into it as Aizen started to nuzzle his neck. He wrapped his arms around him and threw his head back, his hair slicking down with color. When he was kissed again, he could taste the chalky paint on Aizen’s lips. 

The rolled a little back and forth kissing and touching, smearing the surface of the canvas like the world’s biggest finger painting project. Ichigo chuckled into his neck and Aizen pulled back a little, raising a questioning brow. When Ichigo told him what he’d been thinking, he joined in the laughter. It was a happy sound and Ichigo cupped his face in his hands. Through the haze of pleasure there was still one thing that was bothering him a little. There was no way he’d trade this experience for anything, but he wondered if this was just business as usual for the artist who had traveled the world.

“You’re frowning again.” Lips traced over Ichigo’s eyebrow and down across his cheek so he could nibble on his earlobe. 

“It’s nothing.” He groaned a little as he erection rubbed against Aizen’s thigh. “Does it always work like this?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer. He wanted to think that this was something special and not just work for the other man. Aizen propped himself up on his elbows to look down at him, his expression a little hazed by pleasure himself.

“You mean do I sleep with all of my subjects? Afraid that you’re just part of a collection?” The words were a serious, and Ichigo was a little afraid that he’d offended him. He swallowed and felt bad for asking. But instead of being angry, Aizen’s expression softened. He kissed him long and deep, their lengths rubbing together and making both their bodies quiver. He spoke into Ichigo’s throat, the vibration making him squirm a little. “No. It’s never been like this. It’s the first hands on project I’ve ever worked on. And I don’t plan on doing another. I’ve been looking for something special and I couldn’t seem to find it until I came here a few weeks ago. This is a unique experience that I want to savor.”

There was a long lick along Ichigo’s jaw line and he nearly melted into the canvas. “Unless you don’t want to continue.” 

Ichigo threw his arms around him and wrapped his legs around his hips. Aizen chuckled at the response.

Shifting him slightly on the canvas Aizen reached down and placed a finger against Ichigo’s entrance. He gasped and buried his face against the other man’s neck, nipping the skin lightly as it was pushed gently inside. Paint eased the way and the sensation sent ripples of pleasure through him. And it just seemed to get better as a second and then a third were added. Curling the digits slightly earned Aizen a strangled whimper as he found the spot he was looking for. Withdrawing, he set himself against Ichigo’s hips and pushed. The younger man’s back arched against the canvas, the cool paint a contrast against his hot body.

It felt so good. And the slickness of the paint as they slid on the surface was such an erotic touch that Ichigo didn’t think sex would ever be the same for him again. Their bodies slid a little with each thrust and he found himself letting out little moans in time to his movements, each a little louder than the last. The tingling was becoming a hot surge that threatened to overwhelm him. As they were about to go, Aizen pushed in one last time and caught his lips, their cries of pleasure mingling. They lay together, their hearts pounding in unison as the beat slowed. While he was still bathing in aftermath, Aizen stood carefully.

Ichigo’s legs felt like jelly as he was lifted gently up. How the hell did he manage to stand after that? He let himself be drawn to the bathroom and into the shower. Right. Paint. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to let it dry in some of the places it had gotten. He smiled at the ridiculous thought and let the hot water wash over him as he leaned into Aizen’s embrace. Turning his face up, they started exploring each other’s mouths again. Getting clean could turn out to be just as fun as it was to get dirty in the first place.  
Aizen slicked soap over Ichigo’s body as he ravished his mouth, his hands trailing up his back to wash the paint out of Ichigo’s hair. It actually took some time to sluice it all off, all the while teasing each other with fingers and lips. Aizen slicked himself liberally with soap before pushing Ichigo up against the tiled wall. He lifted his hips and the younger man wrapped his legs around his waist to help support his weight. It was a little quicker this time, neither having a whole lot of energy to spare for the second round. But no less intense. 

The water finally ran clear as they braced themselves against each other. Ichigo looked up into Aizen’s eyes and placed another soft kiss on his lips. After drying and wrapping themselves in hotel robes, they collapsed into bed together. Ichigo was a little sad that it was over, but he pushed the thought away and enjoyed the warm aftermath. Both fell into a deep sleep, their arms wrapped around each other. 

Sometime later, something was trying to prod Ichigo gently awake and he kept trying to push the hand away. Through the haze of sleep, he thought he heard someone huff in irritation and then there were lips on his temple, kissing him softly. He mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over onto his side, already asleep again. 

It wasn’t until morning light streamed into the room that Ichigo was forced to wake completely. He rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes as he realized he was alone. Getting up, he went out into the main room to see that the canvas was gone and all of Aizen’s things were missing. A spot of color on the counter caught his eye and he picked up the note that was sitting in a bowl of fresh strawberries.

_My deepest apologies for leaving you. I had to catch an early flight to meet my agent at the last moment. (It’s something I’ve been putting off for weeks and she wouldn’t allow me to reschedule again.) I was unable to wake you, so I’m forced to leave you a note. Please rest assured that last night was a first for me, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did._   
_Sosuke_

Ichigo stared at the piece of paper, feeling a little disappointed. He wished he’d been able to wake up so at least he could have said goodbye. Chewing idly on a piece of fruit, he thought of the previous night and nearly made himself hard again at the memory of it. Yes, he really had enjoyed it. Too bad it was a one time thing. Retrieving his clothes, he picked up the rest of his things and headed to class. He was almost late but as he came through the door, the professor stopped him.

“I’ve got a letter for you.” 

Ichigo raised brow. “Letter?”

“Yes, it arrived just before you did. No, don’t bother getting you things out. Just read it and go. I’ll take care of your portfolio.” She gently took the large bag from him. “Don‘t worry about the next couple of weeks. Consider it a sabbatical.” 

Ichigo look up, a little worried but she was smiling at him. Pulling open the envelope, he drew out the small piece of paper.

_P.S. I didn’t have time to set this up before I left, and I didn’t know where you lived, so I had it sent to your class. Don’t worry about packing. I’ll have everything you need. See you later tonight._

There was no signature, but it was the same handwriting as the note from this morning. Packing? Tonight? What did he. . ? Looking quickly in the envelop, Ichigo found a first class ticket for Paris. The flight left in less than an hour and he didn’t have a car of his own. Eyes widening, he nearly tripped over himself to get out the door, the professor’s amused laughter following him out. Outside, there was a car waiting. He hadn’t really noticed it as he’d rushed in, afraid of missing the beginning of the lesson. But the driver seemed to be waiting for him as he held open the back door and waited expectantly. 

“Um. I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. Are you here for me?” There was a slight nod and he gestured to the car. 

The next hours were a blur. Ichigo didn’t really remember the airport or the flight itself. Just a giddy awareness that he’d made such an impression on someone he admired. When he entered the terminal in Paris, it occurred to him that he didn’t speak a single word of French. But it didn’t matter as Aizen stepped forward to meet him. Ichigo practically threw himself into his arms and the other man chuckled into his hair. 

“Sorry if I worried you.”

“S’okay.” Ichigo’s voice was muffled in the shoulder of his robes. “Thanks for the ticket, Aizen.” A hand on his chin raised his face to look up.

“Please. Call me Sosuke.” The kiss was deep and warm and Ichigo really didn’t want to let go of him. Sosuke’s breathy voice brushed against his ear. “Let’s go paint something.”


End file.
